


Second Dinner

by Rosetta (ARollingStone), Stuffy (HarveyDangerfield)



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Cooking Lessons, Established Relationship, Food Kink, Frottage, Hand Feeding, Hand Jobs, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Pseudo-Incest, Sibling Incest, Stuffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:35:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27225889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ARollingStone/pseuds/Rosetta, https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarveyDangerfield/pseuds/Stuffy
Summary: Diego hasn't seen Luther in a long time (six years to be exact) and he's horrified to find out the state he's living in, stuck at home with dad. Grace is still serving the same portions she used to when they were children, and Luther is a grown man.They've also got some things to work out. Might as well kill two birds with one stone.
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves/Luther Hargreeves
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	Second Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> ya'll had to know we'd get our nasty little hands on this fandom too, it was only a matter of time

Sometimes Luther is incredibly grateful that the Academy has more than one kitchen.

It isn't that Luther is ungrateful for Grace's efforts in the kitchen-- far from it. It always warms his heart when she makes him breakfast and dinner, he always cleans his plate without fail... but that's kind of part of the problem. She's been making him the same portion sizes that she was initially programmed to serve him and his siblings, _when they were twelve._

Evidently, it never occurred to Reginald to update her culinary programming. And why should it, she's been preparing _him_ the same meals all this time, and his have been just fine. Luther knows better by now than to expect his father to think beyond himself. He supposes he could have said something by now, but Grace is always so delighted to cook for him that he just doesn't have the heart to tell her that every time he finishes a meal it's practically an appetizer. 

Luckily, she always cooks and serves Luther his dinner first, at precisely five pm, before heading upstairs to the second and much more fancy kitchen to prepare Reginald's meal at seven. Which leaves Luther to cobble something together in the ground floor kitchen to pad out the rest of his required calorie count for the day. He's no chef, it's never anything exciting-- cereal is a favorite, or a few cans of baked beans heat up in the microwave, or a few PB&J sandwiches... whatever he feels up to waiting long enough to make. Tonight is a four-peanutbutter-sandwiches kind of night... they're out of jelly. 

As he's heading back upstairs, he pauses on the staircase when he hears a strange scraping sound from down in the kitchen. Trained to always be hypervigilant and on the alert, he freezes in place and listens closely, carefully taking silent steps back down the concrete stairs and edging towards the doorway leading into the kitchen, just in time to see a figure dressed all in black with a hood up over their head stand up from where they picked the lock on the storefront door that makes up the back end of the kitchen, and let themselves inside. 

Not really taking the time to question it, Luther sets his sandwiches aside and watches as the figure skulks into the kitchen. They haven't noticed him yet, so he has the upper hand, and it seems like they're looking around for something that they're not quite finding. When they walk further into the kitchen in their hunt, and turn their back to Luther, he doesn't waste any time, and immediately surges forward to elbow the intruder in the middle of their back, between their shoulder blades which ushers a gasp of air from them when the wind gets knocked from their lungs. 

They barely have any time at all to act before Luther's grabbed them by the back of the sweater and yanked them to their feet, and when he pulls the hood back away from their face, an annoyed sigh leaves him upon recognizing the face behind the shadow. 

"Diego," He grunts, and shoves his brother forward so that he hits the counter opposite where they're standing. He catches himself there thankfully, instead of collapsing on the floor in a heap. That would have been embarrassing. "We have a front door, you know."

" _Jesus_ , Luther," Diego grumbles, rolling his shoulders where they smart right between the scapula, aching into his lungs. "You have _super strength_ , you meat head. Bet you'd feel like a jackass right now if you'd just paralyzed me." 

Luther rolls his eyes, which is quickly followed by a shake of his head and a pinch to the bridge of his nose, "Nice to see you too, Diego. Most people would ring the doorbell, not break into their childhood kitchen. You can't blame me, I thought you were a burglar."

"Oh, yeah, a burglar breaking into the place where six super-freaks used to live, that'd be smart. They might be after our fine china," Diego says, giving his shoulders one last roll before he jerks his chin in Luther's direction. "What the hell are you doing here, man? I thought you were supposed to be out on some press circuit with dad right now. That's what the news said."

"It got pushed back last second." He replies, crossing the kitchen, away from Diego, to reclaim the spoils of his dinner-- the three and a half peanut butter sandwiches he'd left on the counter nearby. He takes them to the table and decides if Deigo's here he's good enough company to share dinner with, so he continues eating his half eaten sandwich. Through a mouthful he says, "We're doing it next week."

"Shit, does that mean dad's here too?" Diego looks up at the ceiling, like he expects to see Reginald peering down at them through a grate between floors. "Alright, pretend I wasn't here. You breathe a word of this to him and I'm coming back in the middle of the night to super glue your fingers to your nipples."

Luther opens his mouth in rebuttle to that threat, then thinks better of it. He doesn't even want to entertain it, so instead he addresses the other half of Diego's concern. "He's not here, he had to go to some meeting with a board of investors, that's why it got pushed back. Mom went upstairs to make him dinner, but she always does that. It'll probably get cold and go bad on the table, and she'll just clean it up in the morning."

"Oh," Diego halts his retreat back towards the door he'd come in, pausing at the other end of the long kitchen table. He leans on the back of the chair for a moment, awkwardly drums his fingers once against the back rest, and then stands back up. "Okay." 

It's awkward walking back towards Luther, but he does it anyway, making his way for the door to the hallway. If he's lucky, he'll be able to skirt right past his brother without a word and make it to the stairs. He's not here for Luther, he explicitly tried to be here when Luther wasn't here because he hasn't even seen the man in six years. The longer they go without seeing each other, the more awkward the idea of interacting became, and it's been so many years at this point that just being in the same room as him is suffocatingly strange.

"Why are you here, Diego?" Luther says, even as Diego is trying to sneak past. "You waited until you thought me and Dad were gone, so you were trying to be sneaky, right? Were you looking to pawn something? Is money that tight?"

Diego immediately feels his back prickle as he hits the doorway, shame making him flush. "No, I'm not here to steal shit Luther, jesus christ. I haven't done that since we were kids," he says, turning back to face his brother. Although now that he's denied it, he realizes how much easier it would have been to just say yes, because the alternative is far more embarrassing. He would have preferred Luther think he was a thief than soft. 

He clears his throat and rolls his shoulders, trying to act tough despite the way his ears are turning red. "None of your business why I'm here. I lived here too, you know, you aren't the only one of us who gets to be here."

The funny thing about Diego's tough guy act is that Luther is well aware that it's an act, so even trying to recover from his embarrassment proves to Luther that he's just putting on a show, trying to assert his dominance over Luther--which has never worked. The two of them have always clashed in that regard, for the simple fact that Diego always takes it too far, and Luther's always one to put him in his place. 

Tonight, he's a little too hungry to make any macho gestures so he just says, "Okay, Diego." and leaves it at that.

Luther just _caving_ like that makes it worse, though, and so with a groan Diego says, "I like to visit mom sometimes, okay? Is that a crime? I do it when I know you guys are out of the house so dad doesn't freak and you don't ask questions like you're doing right now."

"I didn't say any of that." Luther looks up at him, he's got a tired expression on his face, with half a peanut butter sandwich pocketed in his mouth. "I said you broke into your own house, and we have a front door. Visit Mom if you want to, nobody's going to stop you."

"I will," Diego says, holding his chin up a little higher, but right as he turns to take another step towards the stairs, something else catches his attention, and he turns one more time to face his brother, double-fisting two white bread sandwiches that appear to only have peanut butter inside. "Are you... good, man?" he asks, indicating the sandwiches with a nod. "Has mom not gone shopping in a while?"

"I'm....fine." Luther looks down at the multiple sandwiches laid out before him and rolls his eyes. "I'm fine, Diego. Just hungry, you know I always ate more than the rest of you. Super strength does that."

Diego squints in confusion, and pushes up his sleeve to glance at his watch. "It's six, dude. Did mom not cook dinner?"

"She did." Luther frowns, hating that he can feel red seeping across his face and into his ears. Clearing his throat, he sits up a little straighter in his chair and pointedly looks away from Diego. "I was just-- I was still hungry."

Diego looks back down at the sandwiches, and up at his brother's embarrassed face, putting the pieces together quickly. He knows macho shame when he sees it, he feels it nearly every goddamn day himself over one thing or another. Mom probably didn't make enough for dinner for a man Luther's size, and he's too embarrassed to tell her that. 

"Right, okay," he moves past Luther towards the kitchen proper again, and starts rifling through the cabinets. He finds a wealth of food options, mom does go shopping often after all, but it's no surprise that Luther doesn't know how to prepare any of it. With a robot mother whose entire life revolves around cooking, cleaning and schedule-keeping, he knows Luther wouldn't want to take any of her pride and joy away from her. He knows that because he felt the same growing up, and only learned how to make himself meals after six months of frozen and boxed foods started to make him really sick.

"Mom's upstairs, in case you wanted to know." Luther tries to deflect, he doesn't like the look of pity that Diego had given him, and now he's rummaging around in the cabinets after questioning him about his diet. This can only end badly, and Luther doesn't really want to entertain it.

"Yeah, I'll go up see her in a little bit," Diego says as he starts pulling things out of the cupboard and setting them on the counter one at a time. 

"What are you doing?" Luther has to ask, he has to. This is just too weird.

"I'm gonna show you how to make some simple meals," Diego says, and when Luther just sits there in silent shock for a second, he looks back over his shoulder at his brother. "What? I'm not just gonna let my brother shotgun peanut butter sandwiches for the rest of his life. I'll just show you how to make a few things so you can make yourself some real food if you're still hungry after dinner."

Luther frowns down at the table, like he's trying to work out a math problem. He chews on the inner corner of his cheek, and watches his brother take eggs and bacon and a few other things out of the refrigerator before he can talk again, and even then his voice is gruffer than he means for it to be. 

"You don't have to do that." He all but mutters. "I'm fine, really. I could make something if I wanted to, but I'm too....busy."

That's a lie, and Luther knows it doesn't sound even half as convincing as he'd like for it to. It sounds like he's making excuses, and refusing help, and he is. There's a weird sort of soft appreciation he has for what Diego is doing, but he's having a hard time accepting it. Maybe that's his own machismo blocking his path.

"Busy," Diego repeats, utterly unconvinced as he turns back to look at Luther, sitting there with his sandwiches and bath robe.

Luther just mouths a few words under his breath, dumbfounded despite knowing the excuse was weak. His sandwich is slipping out of his fingers, he's so utterly idiot-struck in the moment, and he blinks a few times to try to get his brain to come back online. Finally, all he says lamely is, "Yeah."

"Great. Well, I'll show you a few things you can make when you're less busy," he says, jerking his head for Luther to come over to the counter with him. He waits for Luther to join him before he starts opening tins and measuring out ingredients, and sets a skillet on top of the stove to start melting butter. "Pancakes are easy as hell. They only take like fifteen minutes to make, and the recipe's super easy to double up if you need more. Here, write this down."

He grabs the magnetic shopping list pad off the fridge and hands it off to Luther with the attached pen, instructing him to write down the measurements as he pours out ingredients into a bowl from memory, flour and sugar and baking powder, sugar, salt, eggs and milk, whipping it all up by hand. Luther diligently takes notes as Diego finishes and pours it into the pan. 

"Wait 'till you see the bubbles on top, then you can flip it," he instructs, wedging a spatula under the pancake to flip it over, revealing the nice golden brown bottom. "Easy."

"How did you do that?" Luther's voice cracks when he speaks, watching Diego do magic for all he knows. Sure, he's seen Grace flip pancakes before, but he's never paid this close attention to such a thing. It seems foreign and crazy to him, just to see Diego flip it over and it's already half cooked. "Every time I try to cook something it burns. I don't think I could do even that."

"You just gotta pay attention to the bubbles," Diego can't help but chuckle at Luther's awkward squawk. He scoops the first pancake up and sets it on a plate, pouring out a second portion. He watches it for a moment until the top starts to bubble, and then hands the spatula over to Luther to flip this one. "Here, you try."

Luther flips it with a little too much height, and the bottom of the pancake splats outwards into thin lines that startles Diego into laughter. "Not a bad first try. This one just has a tail. You'll get the hang of it quick, pancakes are so easy. They're filling, and you can make a lot of them."

After the instructions are written down, Luther follows Diego's lead. He doles out another portion of pancake batter onto the hot griddle, and waits for miniscule bubbles to form around the edges and on the top of the pancake, then he gets the spatula under the cake, and flips it. This one falls a little too hard on the skillet, and the edges smear out to either side, but it's golden brown and fluffy, which is the general gist he'd been going for. 

They do a couple more, and Luther gets the hang of it. The plate with the pancakes on it piles up until there's a pretty substantial layer of pancakes all heaped on top of one another, and Luther's guts give an achey grumble that lets him know that he's still hungry, as if he needed the signal. The smells alone are enough to get his mouth watering again.

Diego can hear his brother's stomach growl pitifully, and he grabs the syrup and butter out of the fridge, setting them on the counter for him to dole out at his leisure, while he starts to prepare the next meal. 

"This shit's something I make all the time," he says, pulling out a package of precooked chicken thighs and popping them into the microwave to defrost in a bowl of water, as he sets another skillet on the stove to simmer with butter and olive oil. "I don't really use measurements, just whatever looks right, you know?"

As Luther digs into his pancakes, Diego talks him through the process of boiling spaghetti, and how to check when it's done, dumping some chopped mushrooms and peas into the skillet along with the chopped-up chicken thighs once they're defrosted, and then finally adding the noodles once they're al dente, dousing everything in a handful of shredded cheese and a splash of milk until it's all gooey and creamy. Luther dutifully writes down every word.

"I forget what this one's called, but it's good," Diego says, looking over to see Luther had already hoovered his pancakes up and is now staring longingly at the noodle dish. Diego turns off the burner and tips the whole skillet up into a big bowl, handing it over to Luther with a fork. 

Easily enough to feed four or five people, Luther digs into the dish without really considering the portioning. Instead, he gobbles up whole chunks of chicken and noodles, hardly chewing before he's slurping the slick mouthfuls down. His stomach responds by growling deeply, accepting the first real meal he's had in such a long time that, even though he's actively stuffing his face, it's yelling at him that its still hungry, so he heeds the instinct to keep eating, and eating fast. 

"Mm--it's good whatever it is." Luther grunts without even looking up to see Diego smirking over his shoulder at him. Luther's quite the sight, hunched over the bowl with an arm curled protectively around it like he's afraid it'll be taken away, and shoveling mouthful after huge mouthful between his lips. There's a little bit of pressure behind his ribs now, but he isn't full, his stomach refuses to accept this as full even though he'd eaten at least ten pancakes prior to tucking into this massive bowl of pasta.

It actually hurts Diego's heart a little bit to see Luther like this, as charming as it is to watch him eat his cooking like a man starved. The fact that he has any room to act like a man starved at all puts a little knot of worry in Diego's chest. 

His feelings about Luther staying home weren't a matter of secrecy back when Diego left, the first of many to leave the nest until Luther was the only one who remained. His feelings on the matter was a point of great contention between the brothers, but it's been years since then-- six, to be exact. Diego's feelings have softened somewhat since living on his own and fending for himself, and seeing Luther now in this big empty house scarfing a simle noodle dish like he's never been fed... it's sad. 

He tucks the two skillets into the sink to start scrubbing them clean so he can reuse them, while Luther works on the bowl, and he glances over at him. "So... how's the super hero life been treating you?" he asks, trying to urge some conversation just so Luther doesn't eat _quite_ so fast.

Luther only stops eating when he feels like the silence between Diego's question and his answer have drawn on too long, and when he does finally stop he belches politely behind his fist and his eyes water when his stomach revolts a little and he hiccups painfully a couple of times. It takes him another moment or two to catch his breath, and even then he says in a strained voice, "Oh you know--same old same old. Go here, save this person. Go there, stop that train. Usual stuff but uh," he looks up at Diego, who has his back turned to him, washing the dishes. "But I like it." 

Does he really, though? Luther questions it a lot, what he could be doing instead of Reginald's bidding, but he usually swats the thoughts away. It's just the influence of his other siblings talking. If he had a reason to leave, he would, but he likes being home and working for their father, it's his duty after all. 

"What about you? What have you been doing lately?"

"Got a job, got a room," Diego answers. "Got a girlfriend, lost a girlfriend. Joined the police academy, flunked outta the police acaemy. I guess I'm doing the super hero shit now too, except for whatever reason the police let our family get away with that shit doesn't fly for me anymore, so I gotta be on the down-low about it. You're lucky dad probably pays off the cops."

He turns back to the stove with a clean skillet and sets it back over the heat, turning it on with a bit of oil and he rips open a package of ground beef, upturning half of the thing into the pan. He chops half an onion, showing Luther the easiest way to do it, and dumps it into the pan with the meat, sprinkling half a packet of premade taco seasoning into it, along with a splash of chicken broth, while Luther eats and writes it all down. 

In the other skillet he heats up just a bit more oil to show Luther how to fry the tortillas until they're just a little bit crispy, and lays them on paper towels to soak up the spare grease before he spoons the meat into them and layers them with cheese and sour cream, and then folds them up like a pinwheel to toss back into the skillet for a few seconds so the cheese melts and glues the tortilla to itself. 

"Easy,' he says again, as he hands Luther the first few, and takes away the empty bowl, surprised the man had managed to eat the whole thing. Then again he's always been the biggest of their siblings, it shouldn't surprise him. 

Luther makes an almost sick noise at seeing the tacos, or at least that's what he thinks they are. Diego didn't exactly give him the name of the dish, so Luther just writes "tacos" over top the recipe that he'd hastily scrawled while demolishing at least two pounds of pasta. His guts twist, achey and hungry and he drags the plate toward himself. Diego can't see it, his robe is blocking the view, but there's a tight knot of food behind Luther's ribs that's pushing his abs out just a little bit. That alone is evidence that he's full, but his body tells him he's not, so Luther keeps eating. 

Bringing this dish back to the table to sit, he takes a couple of huge bites out of one the tortillas. The mixture of the seasoning layered with sour cream and melted cheese makes his brain literally turn off for a few minutes. He doesn't even address anything Diego's said, he just eats untile one of the tacos is gone and he feels a little bit tighter across his bellybutton. With a sigh, he sits back in his chair and realizes how thirsty he is, but he doesn't immediately get up, instead he watches Diego prepping another dish and enjoys the feeling of having a real meal under his ribs for a change. 

"You've had it hard," He finally says, realizing he should say something in return for Diego telling him about his life. "It sounds like you've been keeping yourself busy, at least. Things can get pretty slow around here--routine, I guess." 

Luther tucks his hand into the fold of his robe and lets his fingers splay over the tight little curve growing against his skin where he's been stuffing himself stupid. It makes his lower belly feel hot, but he tries not to think about that.

"You ever thought about shaking it up?" Diego asks as he prepares the final two pinwheel tacos and hands them over to Luther at the table, and then washes off a couple bell peppers before he starts to julienne them. He glances back at Luther, giving him an expression like he's aghast at the idea, and he chuckles to himself as he turns his attention back to his chopping. "I'm not saying you should punch the old man in the face, but he doesn't have you working 24/7, does he? You could invite a girl over, throw a party on the side of the house he never goes to, or I dunno-- go out sometime. Crazy idea, I know. Being cooped up in here all the time can't be good for you."

"Where would I go?" Luther laughs dryly and picks up the next taco without any hurry this time. "I don't-- I don't know any girls who'd want to come here." 

Frankly, doesn't know any girls at all apart from Vanya and Allison, but he doesn't say that. He doesn't need to. Diego knows, and it makes Luther's stomach ache that Diego knows. Breathing out the knot in his gut, he takes another bite of taco and then talks with it pocketed in his cheek. 

"Besides, I need to be available at all times to accept a mission. I'm the only one left, Diego. I can't afford to take time off."

"You get time off anyway though, that's what I'm saying," Diego says, ignoring the subtle jab at his leaving the nest, if that's what it was. They'd had enough arguments about it in their time already, they didn't need another. "How often does dad really send you out? Once a week? Every other week? It's not like you're kicking ass and taking names every day of the week, are you?"

He pours more olive oil into the skillet, and dumps the strips of peppers and onions into it, setting to cutting up some of the defrosted chicken he hadn't used before to dump in as well, alongside more mushrooms, red pepper flakes and lime juice, indicating when Luther should be writing things down.

"You know I've always been more introverted, a party isn't really my thing." He's still stuck on that, maybe he's trying to avoid what Diego is really saying, which is that he needs to get out more and have a life outside of what Daddy tells him to do, but Luther ignores it, by choice. After offering up his weak argument, he goes back to eating and writing down the recipe Diego is currently working on, tight lipped save for letting food pass through his mouth. 

Luther demolishes another taco. They're easy to eat, all he really has to do is pop them into his mouth and chew a couple times. To boot, they're delicious and salty, not his usual fare. Luther's always been pretty well-kept about his diet, so he eats what Grace makes and usually tries to adhere to a healthy chicken and broccoli follow up, if he can. It's one of the few things he can make because he can steam them altogether. These tacos are outside of the realm of things he usually allows himself to eat, and that makes them forbidden fruit, which he gobbles up, and finds himself a little interested in whether or not he could get fat. Why does that turn him on? 

He tries to stamp out his arousal by hefting up another bit of taco and bringing it to his mouth. His gut is starting to feel a bit tighter now, aching a bit under his ribs. The tie of his robe isn't quite painful yet, but he imagines if he keeps eating like this, it'll get there. It's been so long since he's had this much food, frankly he can't remember a time when he'd indulged like this. He's starting to feel a little gluttonous, but any shame he has is swallowed down with another mouthful of food, and against all odds his stomach gurgles hungrily, so he keeps feeding it.

"So don't party," Diego says finally as he finishes the fajitas by sprinkling a little more cheese on top, and spoons them into more tortillas, folding these ones like burritos and handing a small pile of them over to Luther, about four in total. More than enough for a meal for a normal sized man and then some. "But you've gotta have someone interested in you that you could go on a date with. You're fucking Spaceboy."

"The... Spaceboy thing matters to exactly six other people, it's not doing wonders for getting me laid, Diego." There's an edge of sarcasm to Luther's voice, but he softens a little bit. "Besides, where would I meet someone? At a club? That's not my thing." 

He finishes off the last couple of bites of the final taco, then sets the plate aside and without thinking, drags forward the heap of fajitas. There's only four of them, but Luther's stomach is already feeling pretty tight. Before he digs in, he gets out of his chair and crosses to the refrigerator and pulls the gallon of milk out, which he uncaps and tosses back, just standing right there with the fridge open. 

While Diego is working, he's treated to the sight of Luther with his head thrown back and his brow pinched, one hand resting without thinking on the domed out crest of his belly and gulping thick, cool mouthfuls of milk that wash away the heavy taste of taco seasoning. 

Oh, lord, but that's making Diego think distinctly unchristian thoughts. Not that he was ever christian to begin with. He swallows hard and looks away from his brother as he dumps the dirtied skillets back into the sink to scrub them again. 

It's been a _long_ time since Diego thought about the way he and his brother used to fool around as kids. He pretty much locked that away in a box labeled "do not open" in the back of his mind the day he left. As far as he was concerned, his bisexuality was a matter of convenience, growing up in a house that had more boys than girls, but he's always felt like he was kidding himself when he tried to tell himself his interest in looking at the other men in the police academy locker room was purely aesthetic or aspirational. He was more muscular than half the guys in there, anyway. 

Seeing Luther now though re-ignites old, stamped-out feelings, breathing life back into those old, well-trodden embers. It's almost distressing, how easily he slips back into his attraction to his brother like a comfortable pair of shoes. 

"You're looking pretty full," he says, ignoring the ache settling between his legs. "You want me to stop? I've got a few other ideas, but I could just write them down."

He doesn't answer Diego for several pained minutes, during which he can hear Luther taking long, deep-bellied pulls from the jug of milk and only when he needs to breathe does he finally pull it away from his mouth. He stifles a couple of strained belches in his chest, but Diego can hear it over the water and the scrubbing of the sponge. 

"Aghh...mmm.." Luther grunts, trying to find his words. There's a sting of guilt in his mind that's put there by the ache between his legs. Luckily his robe is heavy enough to hide that he's hard as nails under there, and he doesn't quite know how to feel about it, besides guilty. Diego's just trying to help him, but Luther's always gotten a little hot from eating too much. There's a kind of decadence about it, because he's always had to eat so much due to his super strength, he feels like _royalty_ when he has enough food to feel properly full and overfull. 

When he glances over at Diego, he can see something in his brother's eyes, and the way he's holding himself. Why had he been asking so many questions about girls, anyways? Maybe Luther's thinking with his dick right now, but he can't shake the feeling that Diego's feeling what he is, too. Maybe it's wishful thinking. 

"I'm still hungry," Luther finally says, it comes out a lot more breathless and desperate than he'd meant for it to.

He's not, and Diego can see that much, but he doesn't say anything about it. He can tell how long it's been since Luther really had someone take care of him. Sure, he has mom, but she's always been programmed with only the most surface-level of affection, Reginald himself would never let it get any deeper than that. But the kids used to take care of each other in the ways their parents couldn't or wouldn't, and since Luther's the only one left home anymore, he's been fending for himself. 

Just like Diego. And what Diego wouldn't give for someone to take care of him, once in a while. So he doesn't mind passing the favor along. 

"Sure," he says, turning the skillet back on to start browning the other half of the ground beef he hadn't used for the tacos. He catches a glimpse of the sticker on the plastic that informs him the whole thing weighed about five pounds, which means Luther had already consumed at least two and a half pounds of ground beef alone, without counting everything else on top. He feels another throb between his legs. "Lemme show you how to make instant mashed potatoes kick ass."

The secret is butter, sour cream and extra milk-- and he lets Luther try it right out of the bowl with a spoon before sending him back to the table to finish his fajitas with the gallon of milk at his side as he dumps more onions, peas, carrots and corn into the beef, all of which he strains right out of cans so Luther doesn't feel like he can only prepare this when he has fresh vegetables. 

"You know, I don't buy it that you couldn't find someone to take home," Diego continues as he stirs the ingredients together and breaks out a casserole dish from under the sink, then lays the lid over the filling to simmer together. "I mean, _look_ at you."

"Yeah, look at me." Luther has some fajita smeared on his cheek, as if to prove his point. He can't help the belch that comes up his throat and adds to the look. Diego laughs. "I'm just-- why're you so concerned about my love life, Diego? Do you have someone in mind?" 

He takes another couple of bites from the fajitas, and sits back in his chair to rest his hand over his belly. He's getting full now, properly full. Anything else he eats after this is purely for the sake of hedonism, but he's allowing it just this once. Normally, Number One is controlled, thoughtful about his actions but right now he just needs a distraction from everything, including all the things that Diego is bringing to the forefront of his mind.

"No, not really," Diego says, turning his back to the stove to cross his arms over his chest. He wishes he was more subtle about the way his eyes drop to Luther's stomach before flicking back up to his face. He clears his throat. "It's just brother stuff, right? We might have butt heads a lot as kids but I still wanna see you happy. Thinking of you all alone in this giant house-- well, I don't like thinking of mom all alone in this giant house, either."

"I'm not alone." He argues, but his voice is soft at least, no harshness in it. He understands why Diego feels that way, even if not so deep down Luther does feel abandoned by all his siblings. "I have Mom and Dad, and Pogo. It's not the huge family it used to be, but we're not isolated, Diego."

Even he doesn't believe that. It feels dishonest to say that, when he knows full well Grace isn't much company and Pogo is....well, he isn't as aloof as Reginald, but he isn't exactly falling over himself to keep Luther company. Reginald? Well he's never been that kind of father, and Luther's accepted that for what it is. He can't ask him to be a different man than he is. 

Shaking his head, he lifts the next fajita, the second to last and takes a big bite from it. Juices explode on his chin, and he has to hunch over the plate to keep peppers and beef from falling into his lap. He takes another couple of quick bites and swallows them down like a snake, so that when he comes back for another one he's panting, both because he's desperate for more and his cock throbbing with need. He can't let Diego know that, but God he feels filthy.

"Right, yeah," Diego says, also sounding completely unconvinced as he finishes writing down the steps of the shepherd's pie. "Not the kind of alone I meant, big guy. You're young, you're _hot_ , you have super powers, dude. There's no reason why you should be single. Spaceboy was a big deal, I'm the fucking _Kraken_ nobody gave a shit about and it still gets me laid."

Luther works his jaw a few times. He's not really sure what to say to Diego, he's being so insistent that there must be some kind of ulterior motive here, but Luther is trying to put that out of his mind. Hard when he's hard but closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths, he does a pretty good job of centering himself. The instant his stomach growls again though, he's right back at it, in the same spot he was a few seconds ago. 

"Maybe the people I cared about are all gone now," he finally says, lifting his food again but he doesn't immediately take a bite. "Except suddenly when they break into the house and want to take care of me out of the kindness of their heart." 

He rakes his bottom row of teeth over his upper lip quickly and watches Diego go still where he's working near the stove. Luther looks past him, toward the storefront at the other end of the kitchen and swallows the lump in his throat. "Maybe I can't get with anybody because I'm not over...that."

Diego has gone stock still with his back to Luther again as he was stirring the meat, considering his words carefully. He feels his heart slam up into his mouth, and he holds that beat for several seconds without moving or even breathing, before he finally sucks in a deep inhale and keeps stirring the meat. 

"You're serious?" he asks, trying to keep his voice casual. He doesn't want to sound overly eager if Luther's only waxing philosophical, and he _definitely_ doesn't want to sound judgmental. "It's been six years, man. I'm not the kinda person you wanna get hung up on, I'm made of disappointment. Why do you think I was Number Two?" stop while you're ahead, a voice screams in his head as he hurtles at terminal velocity towards a vulnerability he hasn't engaged with for years. "Dad knew I wasn't good enough, too. You're worth more than second fiddle."

When was the last time he actually said something nice to Luther, he has to wonder. Coming up together, the way their father always pit them against one another made their relationship... complicated. But looking back on it with hindsight, he knows he always loved Luther. Deeply, as a brother and a friend. He knows he never got over that, either. 

"Guess it was a stupid thing to say." Luther's head falls back against the chair, and he sticks his hand into his robe to spread warm fingers over his aching stomach. "Forget it. Sorry."

Diego doesn't say anything for a while. He pours the meat into the casserole dish and covers it with the potatoes from before, and sticks the whole thing in the oven on a timer. He silently works for a few minutes, heating up more oil in a pan and browning the very last of the beef with a can of green chiles, corn, diced tomatoes and just a splash of hot sauce for a vinegar kick, and then rolls it up tightly in tortillas in long, skinny tubes that he sets in the oil to fry. 

Luther is left to eat in total silence for several awkward minutes, conflicted between the sensations in his body and the heaviness of the room, before he's startled suddenly by a plate of fried taquitos piled in front of him, crispy and steaming. 

"Shut up," Diego finally says, several minutes after Luther had spoken at all, and he grabs his brother by the back of the neck, leaning in to give him a hard kiss. 

Luther grapples with it for a second. A pained sigh leaves his nose, and he grunts into Diego's mouth, unable to hold back the pleasure of being kissed for the first time in six years, it feels like a lightning bolt that zaps him straight through his head down to his toes, and to come to grips with the feeling, he lays his hand against the back of Diego's neck in kind and pulls him down with more purpose.

Diego lets his brother guide him for now, bracing his free hand against his chest as he leans into the kiss, tasting the combined flavors of all the previous meals he'd provided for his brother on his tongue. He groans against his lips and slides his hand under Luther's robe to feel his chest through his shirt, firm and hot, his thumb catching a nipple not entirely accidentally. 

He finally pulls away with hazy eyes, panting through his open mouth, and then nudges Luther's plate towards him with a loud thunk and command of "Eat."

Luther sits back with a dreamy look that fills his face up with blush, and with his hair ruffled a little bit he smiles lopsidedly at Diego while his heart does a few flip flops in his belly; but he does as he's commanded, and lifts a taquito to his mouth, eating most of it in one go, and the rest follows in a few orgasmic, crunchy bites. 

"I can't remember the last time I was this full," Luther gruffs, grabbing another one. He practically inhales it, eating until it's gone and grabs the next. They're easy to eat, crunchy and flaky they ooze cheese and chili sauce, and while Luther's never been the best with spicy food he holds his own until the spice gets to him, at which point he takes a few slugs of milk and alternates between eating and drinking, now downing food and drink with more purpose.

"I remember," Diego says, grabbing the back of Luther's chair around his shoulders and swinging a leg over him to sit in his lap. The chair groans with their combined weight but holds fast as Diego drags the platter to the side so he can ferry them to his brother's mouth. "We were fourteen and we snuck out, went to Griddy's with a wad of cash I got from pawning some of dad's crystal shit. We demolished four dozen donuts between the two of us, _most_ of which you ate if I'm remembering right."

He is, of course. He thinks back on that sometimes, when he wonders where he first discovered his love of watching people eat. The image of his brother struggling to finish donut number thirty while flat on his back in one of the many unused parlors of the academy where they'd returned with their spoils, his uniform spread open around his distended belly, has been permanently seared into his mind. Diego had sat in his lap then, too, just like this, and they rutted together until they both came in their shorts.

Luther takes diligent bites from Diego's fingers and looks up at him drunkenly, his brain thoroughly fogged over now that his brother has taken full control of the situation. Really, this is what Luther had wanted-- for Diego to _take_ some of the burden away from him, to just let him feel this pleasure without questioning it, or feeling guilty about it. 

"Oh yeah, I remember now," he grumbles, taking the last couple of bites of a taquito from Diego's fingers, his stubble scrapes him lightly. The way Diego's leather creaks against him makes his head swim, the smell of him so close again after such a long gap almost feels like too much. "It feels like it happened in another lifetime... it was so long ago."

Diego wipes his hand on his sweater, suddenly far too warm, and unzips it down the front so he can shrug it off. Luther is treated to the sight of his brother's tan, strong arms flexing in a grey tank top, his usual harness in place strapped across his chest and shoulders holding the knives he's never without, and Diego chucks his hoodie across the room to land on the beat up old leather couch there. 

"I didn't eat a donut for almost a year cause I puked half of it up the next morning," Diego chuckles as he unties Luther's robe finally and lets it hang open around his stomach, pressed up tight against his brother's groin. Without the heavy wool in the way, Luther can feel Diego's cock throbbing against him through the thin fabric of his shirt, as he's presented with another fried taquito. "I remember being so jealous of you cause you were flat again by morning and I had a stomach ache that lasted most of the day. Guess it actually sucks to process your food that fast, huh?"

"Mom...still cooks the same portions she was making back when we were kids." Luther laughs, he takes half the tacquito in a bite, and decides to get the rest in a couple more, lingering a bit to chew and swallow before he takes another from Diego. His hands dig in against his brother's hips, enjoying the solid feeling of his muscular obliques. "Feels like I'm always hungry, even if I eat enough to fill me up after the fact, I'm always starving three or four hours later."

"These meals will help," Diego says, lifting the last taquito for his brother, who finishes it with as much gusto as the previous ones, and with his hands free he spreads them both around Luther's stomach. His shirt is clinging to him, his abs rounded out into a hard dome that raises and falls with his shallow breathing. He looks so full it makes _Diego's_ stomach hurt, but it also makes his cock ache and throb as he runs his hands over it. "They've got some staying power. They'll fill you up for hours."

Diego is treated to a rich rumble under his hands before Luther turns his face away and belches into his fist, then laughs. "I can tell. Especially if I eat more than one. Might get fat, though."

"Maybe if you don't fit in your stupid jumpsuit anymore dad will make you stop going out," Diego laughs in kind, and leans in to run his teeth over Luther's throat, laying his weight against his brother's full stomach entirely on purpose.

Luther makes a noise like a dying buffalo, but wraps his arms around Diego anyways. His cock jumps when his stomach flips in place and growls noisily between them. Burying his head against Diego's shoulder, he chokes down a couple of belches that are forced out of him, and without really thinking about it, he ruts up against Diego's ass. 

"Shit..." he sounds drunk, muffled in his chest. "You feel good. Wow."

" _Wow_ ," Diego mocks, but it's not unkind. 

The stove beeps and he climbs back out of Luther's lap to drag the big casserole dish out of the oven, setting it on the counter to steam in place for a minute. He looks back at his brother, slumped back in his chair with his full stomach hanging heavy and round in front of him, and he feels a surge of pride knowing that he took better care of his brother than anyone else has in a long time. 

He's already eaten _five_ full meals, and the casserole dish of shepherd's pie isn't a small portion-- but he has to wonder whether Luther could eat it all. He's a big man and he processes food at lightning speed, so he drags the whole dish over after it's had a few minutes to cool, along with a big spoon, the biggest they have that isn't outright a serving spoon, and digs it right into the dish. 

"This is the sixth recipe," Diego announces. "That should be more than enough for now, but I can always come back again and give you more if you get bored." He doesn't want to give away all his secrets. He'd take any excuse to come back sometime and feed Luther like this again, now that he knows it's even an option. 

"Diego I--" Luther's cut off by his brother shoving shepherd's pie in his mouth, and of course he makes a stupid face as it hits his tongue and he's greeted by more flavors than he thought he had room for in his mouth. His eyes practically roll back in his head while he works the bite around on his tongue, and a low pulse settles in his belly when it hits him all over again how much he's eaten. 

This will all be gone and digested in a matter of hours, with no sign that it was there at all, but Luther still accepts another bite from Diego. While he eats from the spoon, he luxuriates by leaning back in his chair and cupping his belly with one hand to explore the heavy, bottom-most curve. It's just how he and Diego remember from that night that they'd fed him those donuts. He's heavy and round, his obliques even bulge with the effort of containing him, his gut moves as one solid ball with every breath and the shape just looks so good settled low on his hips. 

"Thank you." He says finally, between bites. Luther's eyes are big and soft with affection for Diego when he opens his mouth to accept yet another mouthful with utter obedience.

"Yeah, yeah," Diego says, despite the way his heart swells with Luther's praise. 

He's relentless with the spoon, letting Luther just languish back in his chair, chewing and swallowing mechanically despite how visibly full he is. He can hear Luther's stomach churning richly, glugging and bubbling around the first substantial meal he's had in a long time, and it makes him feel hot even under his tank top. 

Scooting his own chair a little closer, he switches hands so he can ferry heavy bites of potatoes and beef and vegetables to Luther's mouth, freeing up his left hand to fit right between Luther's legs, grabbing him by the cock through his pants. 

"Jesus, Luther, no underwear?" he teases, tightening his hand around the bigger man's cock through the thin fabric. He's bigger than he remembers, but they had been just 17 the last time they were intimate, and he explores the length and girth eagerly with one hand. 

"I'm in my bathrobe," Luther laughs through a mouthful, but his laughter quickly dies when Diego's hand finds purchase around his cock, and he moans open mouthed, which gives Diego the perfect opportunity to shove a too-big bite right inside.That really gets Luther, he feels used in a good way, demeaned a bit but it makes his skin prickle. He wants more so he eats hastily and takes more from the spoon before he's really ready, and it goes like that for a little bit. 

HIs toes flex with the drag of Diego's hand. It feels like too much, he's getting quickly overwhelmed by the way his brother's simultaneously tugging his cock and shoving food into his mouth. Luther's skin prickles hotly, and he keeps up with the feeding just barely, choking now and again when the spoon delves too deep, and every time he gags his head swims.

Just knowing that Luther wasn't ever able to eat like this without his help makes Diego feel proud. Possessive, even. Reginald doesn't deserve Luther, he never fucking deserved _any_ of them. Diego has taken better care of Luther in the last hour than Reginald ever had his entire life. 

"Yeah, don't stop," Diego mutters when they hit the 3/4ths mark of the dish, and the heavy meal has made a visible dent in Luther's waistline. The potaoes are heavy and dense and they sit in his guts like a bowling ball, weighing down on top of everything else. He's panting with exertion, his stomach so stretched out he can't even take a deep breath, and Diego leaves his prick alone to rub at his stomach instead, while still bringing bites to his mouth. "Think all this will be gone by morning, or can you get full enough that you don't wake up hungry?"

Luther sets his jaw and looks at Diego with pinched brows, his eyes dark and soulful. His cock is throbbing, begging to be touched again and aching at the absence of Diego's hand, so much so that Luther's speechless for a full minute until he finds his voice again and it breaks in a laugh, "I don't know. I'm pretty full." 

He takes the next couple of spoonfuls and tries to just focus on Diego's hand splaying across his stomach. There's a definite and continuous rumble in his guts, which is the first indicator all of this is already being pushed through Luther's beast of a digestive system, and Luther voices as much out loud, through a bite. 

"I think it's already starting to pass through, I can feel it bubbling down."

"Yeah, I can feel it too," Diego mutters, sliding his hand lower on Luther's stomach, where his guts are all churning to move along the meal, whether because his system has been fed only scraps for so long or because it's hurrying to make more room, Diego can't be sure. Either way, it means he has more space to keep eating. 

He wonders to himself how much it would actually take to properly gum up the works long enough for Luther to make it through a full night's sleep and still be distended by morning... it's something to consider, anyway. It would take a lot of prep and probably take all day, not something they could accomplish right now-- even as Diego finds himself already thinking about staying the night with Luther. 

A rumble low in Luther's guts makes him stutter in his eating for a moment. The sensation rolls against his pelvic floor and makes him breathless for a second, but as he opens his mouth to try and catch his breath, Diego shoves more food in and it goes from there. He pockets mouthfuls in his cheeks and works through thick potatoes and heavy beef and vegetables. The weight of all this food is lulling him into a stupor, and he just alllows himself to be fed and cared for by Diego without question, which is not a position Luther lets himself be in very often. 

They steadily work their way down the casserole dish, with more of the shepherd's pie disappearing by the minute, adding to Luther's growing glut, which has spread out a bit. His belly is weighed down like a heavy rock, curved out from the point where his chest meets his ribs, it's sticking out so far it makes his pecs look almost concave by comparison, and it domes out right down to his hips and forces him to sit back at an angle to give it room to spread. 

When Diego is scraping the last few bites into Luther's mouth, a few stifled burps wash food up the back of his throat and that's when Luther realizes he's probably about as full as he could be right now, but he takes the last few bites obediently. When it's all gone, his head falls back against the chair and he just laughs, grinning like a little boy.

"That was fucking awesome," Diego mutters, dragging his hand up Luther's engorged stomach, rucking his shirt up in the process so he can touch his bare skin. His abs have all stretched out, thinning under the pressure of the food pressing out behind them, and Diego desperately wants to get his hands on his brother but the chair underneath him gives another warning groan. 

Looking up across the room at the couch, Diego offers Luther his hands, pulling him up and helping him wobble over to the sofa before he can drop down onto the old leather cushions. Diego immediately straddles his lap, sitting right on his aching cock so he can spread both of his hands over Luther's full gut. He grinds his hips in a circle, watching his brother's face as it contorts in agonized bliss, and he manages to rock a few shallow belches out of him. 

"Jesus, you're huge," Diego mutters, squeezing Luther's bulging obliques and sliding his hands back up to toy with the harsh line that's formed between where his pecs end and his gorge begins. 

"Yeah, holy shit." Luther grunts, looking down the line of his body at his bulging stomach. He's normally so trim, but he looks like he'd just swallowed a watermelon, and his guts are roaring with the effort to digest everything. "Ah-fuck. Diego I'm not going to last long if you keep grinding on me like that." In his desperation, Luther wraps his hand around Diego's wrist. "I..." he lowers his voice and hisses, "I almost came while you were feeding me."

"Yeah, I could tell," Diego smirks, and grabs the back of the sofa to just grind his hips with more purpose, watching his brother struggle not to cum in his pants with a crooked grin. "What do you want, Luther?" He would give him anything he asked at this point, feeling his own cock twitch again when his rutting shakes another wet belch out of the larger man. 

Luther's head is completely empty. He tries to process Diego's words but it's like they've literally floated in one ear and out of the other one. When he grabs him by the hips, it's with such force that it reminds Diego of just how strong Luther really is, because it makes his bones ache a little bit when he digs his thumbs into the solid muscle. He's chasing the feeling of Diego riding him, both of them still clothed like they're kids again. 

He's just about to say something when Diego's ass comes down on him _just right_ , and he thrusts upward, trying to exert some control over his orgasm by focusing on the good feeling, but he has to let go of Diego's hips for fear of hurting him, and he just tangles his fingers in his own short hair. His delicate, soft gasps rise in pitch and tempo until they turn into a shout and he cums so intensely that his vision blacks out and his voice cuts off from a shout to a pained little squeak, color bleeding down from his face, into his chest.

"Jesus..." Diego whispers breathlessly as he watches Luther shake apart under him with barely a sound. His own cock is aching, and twinges with such force in his pants that it knocks the breath out of him. He leans out over Luther, grabbing the arm rest over his head and opens his pants to let his cock free. He pulls his underwear down and spits in his hand, wiping a trail of saliva over Luther's lower belly before pressing his cock up against the soft skin, fitting right into the groove between his abs. He braces his hand over his length against Luther's stomach, slotting it into the soft meat between his thumb and pointer finger, and starts to pump his hips forward against his gut. 

He moves with a breathless clip, dragging his cock against Luther's stomach and panting harshly through his nose as he does. His chin tucks down towards his chest as he grimaces through the pleasure, his hand creaking around the arm rest behind Luther's head. 

Luther isn't even really aware of what's happening for the first few minutes, if he were he'd touch Diego. His brain has fuzzed out into cottony bliss and he's still seeing stars by the time he feels Diego's cock sliding against him. He has to shake his head a few times so as not to fall right to sleep, but once he's recovered a bit, he reaches around behind Diego and cups his ass with one hand, and with the other he rubs the tip of his cock where it's pistoning across his stomach. 

"I'm sorry," he croaks, not thinking as to whether or not that's the sexiest thing to say right now. "It's just been so long since anyone touched me, I couldn't last for very long."

Diego just laughs breathlessly, giving his brother that same crooked grin. "You don't say?"

He feels another enormous surge of pride when he realizes that _he's_ the one with the upper hand, now. That old, deep-seated competitive streak with his brother rears up inside him as he fully understands that for once he finally has something he can actually say definitively he's better at than the man he's been set up to compete with his whole life. While he knows Luther's too sensitive to be teased about it, even good-naturedly, he indulges in his own personal little thrill. 

While Luther had been stuck at home all these years, Diego tore shit up in the police academy. He indulged in a little bit of posturing with the other guys, a little bit of bedpost-notching in his day. He's not exactly ashamed of it, it's not like he coerced anyone into his bed by lying to them about what they meant to him-- which is probably why he didn't have the _most_ lays to his name out of the guys in the academy, but he had more than enough to feel like a bit of a pussy slayer. 

And then there's Luther, shaking under him and apologizing for cumming too fast. It gives Diego a rush as he fucks the tight, wet space between his hand and his brother's stomach. 

While Diego is getting off on his prowess, Luther is shrinking down a little with embarrassment. If he had somebody in his life, he might have been more prepared for such an intense playtime, but he'd cum from simple grinding, and Luther can't help but feel properly cowed by the ordeal. He feels like an idiot, but he tries to put it out of his mind for now, focusing on Diego helps. 

He rucks his brother's pants down around his hips so his ass is exposed, and even though he doesn't have much practice with it, he dips his finger into his mouth and pulls it away, then finds Diego's hole between the tight cleft and presses against it. It doesn't give really, but he's not trying to push inside, for now he just massages against his hole. For his stomach, he doesn't have to do much. It's tight all on its own, and growling with the effort of digesting his meal, so there's plenty of sensation vibrating under Diego to give him the push he needs to cum.

"Fuck!" Diego throws his head back with a shout when Luther digs that finger against him, his face flushing dark in a mix of surprise, embarrassment and ecstasy. Luther was and still remains the first and only person who Diego's ever let touch him here, and it makes him dizzy to feel it again. So many years of abstaining from anal play in the name of his own masculine dignity are shattered in an instant, and he rocks his hips back against his brother's finger. "Yeah-- yeah, yeah, Luther, _in_ \-- c'mon don't wuss out on me--"

"My hands are a lot bigger than they were when we were kids." Luther warns, clasping Diego's hip in one hand as his finger curls up against his hole. Just watching Diego get off is giving him his own dose of arousal, already coursing through him again. His cock lurches weakly against his thigh, but is still too spent from before. "But I can tell you're ready for me." 

He's clumsy at dirty talk, always has been. Really he's only ever seen it work in porn. But all the same, he pushes past Diego's muscle and into his hole, just with one long finger. It's enough to make Diego's ears ring, at least, especially when Luther starts to finger him properly.

The noise Diego makes is like a dog bark when Luther presses his finger inside him. His hips go still for a moment, pleasure rendering him completely immobile as his cock throbs against Luther's stomach and his hole clenches around that spit-slick finger and his mouth drops open and slack. His head drops back on his shoulders and he lets out a breathy growl before he starts to rut his hips again, Luther chasing him every inch of the way with his finger. 

It doesn't take more than one finger for Diego to cum. He shouts as he paints over his brother's stomach, his prostate milked by his exploratory finger. His thighs clench and tremble and his moan breaks off into a cackle of joy, grinning from ear to ear as he finally comes down, panting, his shirt sticking to the center of his chest with sweat. 

"Fuck..." he groans when Luther pulls his fingers back out, and then he flops down beside Luther, fitting his body between his brother's and the back of the sofa. It's a tight squeeze, but he happily flops his arm and thigh over Luther's equally spent body with a hoarse mutter of "Damn, Luther. Where'd you get so crafty?"

"I might've learned a few things from you," Luther grumbles, turning just slightly so that his tummy is barely pressed between them. It's enough that Diego can feel it grumbling. He lifts his hand and clasps Diego on the back of the neck, letting his forehead fall against his and just laughs.

"Eugh, gross," Diego scolds when Luther gets Diego's own cum back on his shirt, but he wipes it off with the rest of his tank top anyway, unclipping his harness so he can just pull his shirt off properly and tosses it to the floor. Laying on their sides facing one another now, Diego loops his arm underneath Luther's open robe to curl around his back, and he rests his head on the arm rest of the couch, pillowed over his brother's bicep. 

He just looks at him for a moment, at the quirk of his lips and the pretty blonde of his hair, those dark slate blue eyes and smooth cheeks, and he leans in to just give him the lightest graze of a kiss before relaxing back once more. 

"So I can come by more often now, yeah?" he asks. "We're good?"

Luther falters, there's a ghost of a frown on his face and he glances away from Diego, "You really want to come by more often? To see me?"

"Yeah," Diego leans up on his elbow to look down at his brother, his hand bracing against his waist. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"No," Luther answers quickly, he doesn't sound convincing but it does seem like he's trying desperately to believe it's true.

Diego gives him a knowing look, and then drops back down to lay on his side beside Luther. "Look, in my defense, up until now I thought you didn't want anything to do with me. We didn't exactly part on the best of terms-- why do you think I'd always wait 'till you were gone to come visit mom?"

"I thought it was because you hated me," Luther mutters. 

"Shit, no, it's cause I didn't wanna get my ass kicked by Spaceboy," Diego chuckles. 

"You were scared of me?" Luther looks up, alarmed. 

"What? No," Diego scoffs. "Don't flatter yourself. I was... _apprehensive_ that you wouldn't let me come back to keep visiting mom if you knew I was here."

"Apprehensive means scared," Luther says. 

"I'm gonna kick _your_ ass in a second if you don't quit," Diego pinches Luther's side, hard enough to make him squirm.

Luther laughs, but the smile doesn't last, fading quickly as he drops his head back down, unable to meet Diego's eyes. "Look, I'm not--I'm not blaming you for how we left things, Diego. I want to believe we can be good again and I'm just worried I won't measure up."

"Take it one step at a time, big guy," he says, rubbing his thumb against Luther's waist. "You don't got a thing to measure up to, cause shit ain't shit, alright? We're just... taking baby steps. For now I'll just come around every week or so and show you a couple more recipes and I'll bring some beer and we'll just shoot the shit. Whatever. Cool?"

"Yeah, that's fine." Luther chuckles, makes a little face at Diego. "Cool."

"Cool," Diego repeats, and lets himself sag into his brother's embrace on the sofa, closing his eyes with a smile. "Cool."


End file.
